


Second Time Around

by starsmahogany



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Birth, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Post-Mockingjay, toastbabies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:59:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsmahogany/pseuds/starsmahogany
Summary: Pregnancy was a rather terrifying experience for Katniss the first time, and giving birth wasn't any better. Only the joy of holding her daughter in her arms brought all her fears to rest.The second time however, she's determined to remain relaxed, determined to take things into her own hands. At the lake with only Peeta by her side to support her, she does just that.Post-Mockingjay, Katniss' POV.





	Second Time Around

**Author's Note:**

> I've always headcanoned Katniss being afraid of medical intervention after everything she went through in District Thirteen and the Capitol, hence the inspiration for this fic!
> 
> Also, I was teetering on the edge of T and M for this fic! Ultimately I went with M, just in case references to labor make anyone squeamish.

Everything radiates calm. Everything is absolutely right with the world. Normally hectic things have slowed to a lull, creating an absolutely ideal situation, an absolutely ideal morning.

The air is warm and soft, tickling my skin as it gently blows past. The lake before me has an almost glass-like quality to it, remaining as steady as my composure. The birds are a bit more subdued, distantly singing their songs just enough to create a balanced ambiance with the water and wind.

Even my stomach, swollen with life and occasionally twinging with pain, something that brought me so much terror in the past, soothes me as I rub gentle circles atop it.

I feel so free out here. The lake and its surrounding forests have always brought me serenity, always brought me away from any terrors. It’s acted as a place of meditation, a place to clear my thoughts and focus in on myself. And now, it’s serving as a place to peacefully bring new life into the world.

A soft sigh from behind me steals my attention, and I pivot around to face its source.

“You okay?” I murmur.

His facial expression turns incredulous, before it breaks with his usual sunniness, a laugh escaping his throat.

“Sweetheart,” Peeta chuckles, “You’re really asking if  _I’m_ okay?”

“Yeah...I guess I am...”

He titters with mirth once more, shaking his head before replying.

“I’m perfectly fine. Are you?”

His question sends me into my thoughts once more, my heart swelling as I consider things. This was one of the more frightening things I’ve endured throughout my life, and certainly one of the most painful.

Memories of it are intertwined with unease; I recall being trapped in my terrors at home, wanting nothing more than to flee into the woods to escape it all. I remember not feeling in control, each pain and each subsequent murmur from the doctor taking me further and further away from myself.

Despite everything I’ve been through, despite the plethora of hardships I’ve faced, I almost thought I couldn’t do it. I almost let the anxiety overtake me. Had Peeta not been there to soothe me, to comfort me through it all, and had the payoff of finally holding her in my arms not been so glorious, I’m sure I would have completely fallen victim to panic.

But now...

I shut my eyes, letting out a deep, humming sigh. I’m in the place where I feel the most at ease. I’m with the one and only person who makes me feel the most loved, the most comforted. And I’m relying on my body and my body alone, to get me through this. I’m entirely unimpeded, and entirely in control.

So when I respond, I put the most truth I can into a single word.

“Yes...”

“Good. That’s the important thing. I just want you to be absolutely comfortable.”

I nod, my heart twittering within my chest. My love for Peeta knows no bounds. Any other husband would have likely freaked at the notion of their wife laboring in the wilderness. Peeta however, agreed to it a little too easily.

 _“If that’s what you want...”_  he had murmured.

 _“That’s what I want,”_  I had replied,  _“Being there with you.”_

It shouldn’t have been much a surprise though. He’s been nothing but supportive and loving with both of my pregnancies. I made the mistake the first time around of thinking he’d prioritize our baby above me. The dark voices of anxiety kept telling me that he’d want the best for our baby, and not for me. They kept telling me that it was the utmost thing he wanted, and I was simply the in-between.

How foolish of me. Because he was there for me every step of the way. He didn’t even slightly falter for one second. Even as our child, his child, was making its entrance, he didn’t leave my side, continuing to smother me in love the entire way through.

And this time around is no different. He might even be more supportive, more flexible, more loving. I didn’t even think it to be possible. But no, he’s completely handed the situation over to me, giving me the utmost control of it all. He won’t even come to my side unless I ask him to, allowing me whatever balance of comfort and solitude I want.

I don’t deserve him. God, I don’t deserve him. I love him so very much.

Wrapped up in the emotion of it all, I cannot help but tear up, though a contented smile still plays across my features. A few tears break through, trickling down my cheeks. When I watch Peeta’s face shift, when I can practically see him holding back his inquiry in the fear of disrupting my concentration, I cannot help but cry even more.

“I love you...” I weep, my smile growing all the more warm.

“I love you too,” he replies, returning my expression, albeit with a bit of confusion still twinging the edges, “Are you in pain?”

“No...”

I jinxed myself, a squeezing pain building up low in my belly, causing my face to twinge ever so slightly.

“Kind of...Can...can you come here?”

I could almost laugh at how quickly Peeta pops up from where he was sitting to quietly observe, like he was spring-loaded and ready for my permission. I hum through the discomfort, riding it like a wave. It becomes significantly easier to bare the second Peeta reaches me, wrapping me in his warm embrace.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispers, “You’re doing so well.”

I remain quiet until the pain releases, exhaling against his shoulder.

“I’ve barely done anything, Peeta. It’s slow going...”

“Maybe. But you’ve gotten this far already.”

“Thanks to you.”

He nuzzles against my head, the sunlight that is his smile evident against me.

“No, this is all your doing, love. I’m just...here.”

“I’m glad you are,” I whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to his collar, “This is honestly so...perfect.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way for you.”

We fall into another peaceful silence then, my concentration shifting back inwards. Peeta simply holds me, soothingly rocking us back and forth as we let my labor progress. The pains continue their steady cycle, periodically squeezing and releasing my stomach. It hurts of course, my eyes squeezing shut along with them, my fingers gripping Peeta a bit tighter when they hit their peaks.

But out here, with him, they’re...oddly tolerable. I can focus on other things, like the various bird calls, or Peeta’s heartbeat beneath my ear, or the soft sloshing of the water as it laps against the shore. It’s far better than having a doctor constantly updating me, constantly telling me what to do, constantly making me hyper aware of the situation.

Now, I can handle them however I please, however I see fit. And after a few more contractions, a few more stabs, I decide I’m restless. I wiggle out of Peeta’s embrace, meeting his soft blue gaze as I take his hand in mine.

“Walk with me?”

He nods, offering his arm for me.

“Lead the way.”

And so I do, waddling along next to my husband, holding on to him as my anchor in this. Moving around must kick start something deep within me, like the waddling sway of my gait coaxes our baby closer into the world.

The pains get progressively worse, and more and more frequent. Periodically stopping to breathe and concentrate shifts into stopping every few minutes or so. I slowly start to lose control of my vocalizations, beginning to release small moans and whimpers with every peak and valley.

As things progress, a small flicker of worry begins to burn within me. I’m handling things well enough I suppose. Everything’s manageable right now. I cannot help but think however, how Peeta feels about seeing me in pain.

We were warned with our first that the intensity of it all and the presence of blood could easily trigger a nasty episode. He was a trooper though. Not once did I see the warmth fade from his eyes. He didn’t go green in the face either, nor did he even flinch. He stayed with me the entire time.

That was in the presence of a doctor though, someone who piloted us through the entire process, and could intervene if something did indeed go wrong. Being out here, alone, puts the both of us in a vulnerable situation, a potentially dangerous situation.

I inhale deeply and blow it slowly through my nose. We talked about this though. Peeta got coaching from Hazelle, more or less learning how to support and guide me if needed be. We planned this out, discussed what to do should something go awry. 

Even still though, that doesn’t stop my mind from venturing to darker possibilities.

I reflexively tighten my grip on him, my heart twittering a bit from nerves. In holding him however, in feeling his presence, there’s only steadiness. And when I turn my head to meet his stare, his perfectly clear, loving stare, there’s only Peeta. My Peeta.

Another contraction builds up in its earnest, the worst one so far. I quickly shift myself to hold on to Peeta’s shoulders, breathing heavily and shutting my eyes away from view. And even though I’m no longer looking at him, I continue to feel his collectedness, his calm, supportive demeanor.

It grounds me, pulls me back away from my fears. He amplifies this further by whispering encouraging words.

“Good, Katniss...Just breathe, love...You’re doing so amazing.”

His hands come to cup my tightened stomach, holding me, holding our child, as I endure everything. And even through the searing pain, even through the blood pounding through my ears, he’s able to reach me as he murmurs to my belly.

“Your mother is incredible...I’m sure we’ll be meeting you soon, little one...She’s going to get you here safe and sound...”

I don’t know why I even fret.

When the vice grip around my midsection lessens, when I let out a breathy moan, I find moisture dripping down my cheeks once more. Some of it from the pain surely, but Peeta’s affection is likely the main culprit. He looks up from my stomach to catch my stare, but the moment our eyes connect, my lips come crashing to his.

It’s a silent thanks, a silent declaration of my love, and a way to ground myself even further. Though the kiss is short and sweet, it carries all the passion the both of us can muster, relishing in it before the journey continues.

We go back to walking slowly along, allowing my body to take its course. And take its course it does; the pains shift from plentiful to rather relentless, practically cresting one after another after another. I start to perspire something terrible, sweat beginning to dot my skin all over as both the heat of the day and labor take hold. Various noises leave my throat in a stream, like there’s a disconnect between my brain and vocal chords.

But despite all of this, I’m calm. I’m steadfast. I’m focused. It’s getting difficult to bare, but I knew this is what awaited me. I knew this is what I had to endure once more to grow our family bigger. So I grit my teeth and press onwards.

That is, until the next squeeze brings upon a strange sensation that stops me in my tracks, my grip on Peeta turning iron.

“Katniss? Everything oka-”

I gasp as a pressure releases deep within me, causing a rush between my legs. My pants are quick to dampen, and my heart is quick to speed up. Things are progressing. I’m getting incredibly close now. I’m really about to do this.

I begin to shiver, my mind flipping from excitement to nerves to everything in between. Peeta’s voice snaps me away from my whirlwind of thoughts, reminding me of the task at hand.

“Oh hun...Okay okay...Do we need to stop? Do you want to take your clothes off?”

I can hear the slight waver to my husband’s voice. He’s likely flustered with the latest development, same as I. In being there for each other though, in figuratively holding each other’s hands and getting through this, I decide to ease the tension.

“That’s...the kind of talk...that got me into this...” I pant amidst the flurry of new activity in my belly.

Thankfully, it works; I draw out the burst of laughter I adore from Peeta, bringing a weak smile to my face as well.

“But...yes please,” I continue, “I think...we’re getting somewhere...”

I watch as Peeta slowly licks his lips and nods, the emotion dancing through his eyes matching mine.

“Okay,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to my dewy forehead, “I love you so much...You’re almost there...”

After he helps me out of my now-soiled clothes, I’m quick to make my way into the pristine waters of the lake. It’s incredibly soothing, cooling me down and comforting me as I ride out the hard transition. I lock into myself with each ever intensifying pain, allowing my body to lead the way.

I remember I was sobbing at this point with my last, completely terrified and completely out of my element. But now, under the watchful eye of my husband and the serenity of the area, I only rock, moan, and hum. I’ve got this. I’ve completely got this.

It isn’t long before a flicker of flame deep within begins to conflict with the surrounding chill of the water. I can feel it morph with each pain, growing and growing with every passing second. The more it heightens, the more it coaxes my body to fight against it, all energy in my system beginning to shift downwards.

Akin to fire, I know what this means. I know it’s time to leap into the blaze to ease my child, our child, out of it. He or she seems just as eager, settling itself just so at the apex of my thighs.

“Peeta...” I moan, alerting him to the final stage.

“It’s coming?”

I simply nod, attempting to keep my composure and focus at bay, breathing deep, heavy breaths. I watch as Peeta gets up from his spot on the shoreline, darting around and readying things for our baby’s arrival. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t show it, efficiently pulling out blankets, towels, and rags from our bag.

I watch him with gratitude, continuing to rock myself and wait. My body, and baby perhaps, aren’t as patient. The fire suddenly crests, screaming at my body to intervene. I cannot deny its call now. I cannot fight it any longer. So with my husband still preparing on the shore, I give my first push in the water.

Burning pain roars through my system as I get into it, but it’s...strangely wonderful. I feel incredibly powerful in doing this. I feel like it’s nothing I can’t handle.

Though blood starts to pound in my ears with my effort, I can hear Peeta’s shaky gasp somewhere close by.

“K-Katniss...”

“I’m okay,” I manage to grunt out, “I’m okay...”

Everything eventually releases, sending a moan from my throat. I take the opportunity to hoist myself from the lake, and into the waiting arms of my husband.

Instantly he’s embracing me, drying me with a towel, and kissing me all over.

“God, you’re incredible...” he whispers between the passes of his lips, “You’re actually...doing this...”

Again I nod, but my body seizes my attention before I can reply, sending me barreling into another strain. My hands are quick to find Peeta’s shoulders, my fingers digging harshly into his skin as I venture through the flames. I feel him still against me, simply holding me.

“You’re doing this...” he repeats, “I love you so much...You’re so strong...”

Another pent up vocalization leaves me as the contraction ends, allowing me room to speak.

“Definitely coming...” I weakly huff with mirth.

“Alright...Just tell me where you want me to be...”

I nod, and survey the area, thinking about how I want to do this. I settle with sitting on a blanket, leaning against Peeta seated behind me. It gives him the opportunity to both comfort me and look on, and me to fully relax knowing I have his utmost support, his utmost love.

And in getting situated, I’m very quick to fall into a battle rhythm. I’m untouchable, nothing pulling me from the task at hand now. My body and I are one, tackling this together, treating this like any other challenge I’ve had to face in the past.

The pain shifts from searing to practically blinding the more I bear down, the fire utterly exploding within. But I know what it leads to. I know I can handle it. I know I can do this. So through the sweat pouring down my skin, the tears pooling in my eyes, the rock-hard tightness of my stomach, I carry on.

The flames are quick to become localized, an intense burn manifesting itself between my legs. Attempting to follow the same pattern as last time, my mind tries to send me into panic, shivers rolling down my spine despite my efforts. I can feel my heart starting to race, anxiety threatening to overtake me again, my lungs tempting me to cry and scream.

It’s then I realize that I’m not alone in this. Just with all the tribulations I’ve faced, all the pain I’ve endured, I’ve always had someone to ground me. And so I’m quick to reach out to him, uttering the words that prompt his utmost comfort.

“P-Peeta...Stay...stay with me!”

“Always...” he murmurs, warmly kissing my cheek, “I’m right here...”

He reaches down to hook his hand beneath one of my knees, holding it and supporting me as best he can. And as I hold my other leg, I realize he’s with me, and we’re venturing hand in hand into this. He’s right beside me as I face this, and it gives me all the willpower I need.

I’m able to quickly refocus, leaping back into the fray. I can feel myself making way for our baby, the burning coupling with a tight stretch. But I don’t falter. I don’t let my anxieties get to me, nor the pain. I keep at it, my moans and grunts intermingling with a medley of “It’s right there, sweetheart...Keep pushing...” and “I love you so much...”

Everything builds, and builds, and builds, completely overtaking me. I can still hear Peeta’s encouragement, but just barely, my senses almost shutting completely down as my body hones in its utmost strength. When the pressure, the burn, the stretch, are all almost too much to bear, I cannot help but cry out as I give my strongest heave yet, and feel something give with my efforts.

I’m almost delirious with all the sensations, my mind lost in a thick smoke as I try to process things. But as usual, my husband reaches me when nothing else will, his voice teary and excited. Between his countless “I love you’s” and “You’re so incredible’s,” I think I can hear him say something about our baby’s head.

“P-Peeta...Go...” is all I manage to get out, before I’m dragged right back down into the task at hand. It was just enough for him to understand though. He hesitates; I know he doesn’t want to leave my side. But in following what we discussed, he gives my forehead a lingering kiss, before shifting to sit between my legs, readying himself to welcome our second.

Though he’s not behind me anymore, his support is still momentous. I feel his hands softly rubbing my thighs, his words gently caressing my ears, his presence warmly coaxing me on.

I can feel his complete and utter adoration for me, his total awe as he watches things unfold. It reminds me that there’s no one else I’d do this for, that I can’t think of a more perfect person to bring a child into the world with.

So, with one last tremendous effort on my part, one last tear, and one last cry, my stomach quakes incredibly before handing off our baby out of my body and into its father’s waiting hands.

And then...there’s a blissful nothingness. There’s the most astounding peace. There’s a wondrous relief that I’ve only felt one other time in my life before.

It seems like the bustling realm of the lake goes still, everything hushed at the introduction of another life. Hearing my father sing to me here was once the most beautiful sound to ever grace the lake’s shores. But the pure cry that rings out, the new wail that has me instantly fall in love, just might rival that.

And when I look up to see a weeping Peeta, smiling his biggest smile and tenderly holding the newest addition to our family, it’s certainly the most beautiful sight.

I’m instantly crying, time slowing down and everything fading out around us. Peeta momentarily meets my gaze, and the love, the appreciation, is like nothing else I’ve ever seen.

“It’s a boy...” I hear him choke out.

Then suddenly, he’s passing our baby, our son, from his arms to mine.

And I’m sobbing, I’m laughing, I’m absolutely adoring this perfect little life I’ve managed to bring into the world.

When I say perfect, I really mean just that. He’s red, and damp, and crying his lungs out, but he’s so incredible. He has ten little fingers, ten little toes, and a very light blonde layer of fuzz downing his head. He must have Peeta’s hair, and the thought gets me crying even harder.

I clutch him to my chest, never wanting to let go of him. It’s like all the pain I just went through, all the struggles of the situation, instantly fade away the second he’s against me. Finally getting to hold him in my arms is just as wonderful as it was with my first, if not more so.

Because...Peeta and I did this...I did this.

Peeta must read my thoughts, because he travels to sit behind me again, embracing both me and our baby, holding us incredibly close. He’s crying and laughing and kissing me all over, spilling out a plethora of love and praise.

“Katniss...” he weeps, “Katniss that was astounding...He’s here...He’s really here...You did so amazing...I can’t tell you how much I love you...Thank you...”

I’m somehow able to break my stare away from our son, locking glassy gazes with my husband before locking trembling lips. It’s a messy but beautiful kiss, the two of us pouring all the love and adoration we can muster into it.

“I love you, Peeta...” I whisper when it finally breaks, panting softly against his lips.

“I love you...” he returns again, “Both of you...”

After the birth wraps completely, I readjust our son to offer him his first sustenance, Peeta covering him with a blanket to give even more comfort. It takes a bit of nudging and rooting around, but before long, his little lips part against me, connecting us in a beautifully unique way.

Peeta and I fall into a hush as we watch, smiling and crying all the while. Oddly enough, I’m the one to break the silence.

“He looks like you...” I whisper, my voice shaking with tears.

Peeta laughs softly, pressing a tender kiss to my cheek.

“You think so?”

I nod, before looking deep into my husband’s eyes, my stare sincere and loving.

“His name should relate to yours...”

I watch a fresh sheen of tears coat Peeta’s eyes, his smile growing incredibly warm.

“Sweetheart...You’ve already done the world for me...You just delivered our son, something I cannot even begin to thank you enough for.”

“You don’t have to,” I whisper, giving his lips a soft kiss before continuing, “Besides...I already have one in mind.”

“Oh?”

I gaze tenderly at our baby, before looking back at his father.

“Rye...”

Unsurprisingly, the glass in Peeta’s eyes shatters, tears catching the sunlight and sparkling their way down his cheeks. We named our daughter Willow for my sister, for Rue, for my connection to the woods. So naming our son Rye for Peeta’s closest brother, for his resemblance to his father, for his father’s connection to baking...There’s really no question.

“Rye...” he repeats, before giving a sob of a laugh, tasting the name more, “Rye Mellark...”

I nod, returning Peeta’s shaky mirth.

“If that’s what you want...” he murmurs with a grin.

“That’s what I want...”

“Then it’s perfect. As are you.”

As I smile and bask in the love of our family, a peculiar thing happens. It happened when I first connected with Willow; I saw beautiful visions of what was to be. I saw her twirling and dancing across the meadow. I saw her inquisitively picking up my bow. I saw her messily painting and attempting to copy Peeta.

And now, I see our son toddling after her amidst the tall grasses and flowers. I see him covered in flour and pieces of dough. I see him flashing a grin so similar to his father, one that never fails to make my heart melt.

It makes us all a beautiful, singular unit. It makes me so excited to bring him home to introduce him to his sister. It makes me so relieved that I was able to get him here safely, so relieved that I was strong enough to do this.

I briefly think back to when I refused to have children, when I was too terrified with the state of things to even consider subjecting another life to my same horrors. But now...I’m truly at peace, in the arms of my husband, cradling our  _second_ child.

Everything truly is right with the world.


End file.
